Friends come in all shapes and sizes, much like the food pyramid we learned about in school. Imagine that pyramid, but instead of food groups, it’s levels of friendship. At the very top, in the tiny peak, are your closest confidantes, the friends who truly nourish your soul. These are the people you rely on, the ones who know you best. But what about the wider base of that pyramid? That’s where your acquaintances, your “kinda-friends,” friends-of-friends, and those familiar faces you see around town reside. Like those tempting treats at a party, these casual connections might not be a main course in your life, but they offer a surprising amount of social sustenance.
Sociologist Mark Granovetter, back in the 1970s, gave a name to these broader connections: “weak tie” relationships. As Amanda Mull insightfully wrote in The Atlantic, these weak ties were often the first to disappear when the pandemic hit. Shops closed, restaurants shuttered, and offices emptied, taking with them the everyday interactions with people who weren’t in our inner circle.
Mull eloquently mourned these almost-friends, these familiar strangers who suddenly vanished from her daily life. Think of “the guy who’s always at the gym at the same time as you,” or “the barista who starts making your usual order while you’re still at the back of the line.” These aren’t your ride-or-die besties, but their presence, however fleeting, contributed to the fabric of your day-to-day existence.
Dr. Adams, an expert in social connections, emphasizes that while these individuals might not have your phone number, they collectively hold significant value. She feels this absence keenly in her own life as a music enthusiast. She misses the vibrant, packed clubs of Greensboro, the energy of shared musical experience. Returning to those venues will be different.
“I know from being on Facebook that a lot of people have moved or died, so when I go down to the corner to hear music, a whole bunch of people I know aren’t going to be there,” she reflects. “In some cases I don’t even know their last names. But we enjoyed being together listening to the music.” This shared enjoyment, this sense of community, even with people we don’t know intimately, is a crucial element of social well-being.
However, not everyone misses these peripheral figures. Rachel Stevens, a radio producer in Seattle, admits she’s been perfectly content without the “riffraff,” the less essential, semi-friends in her life. For some, a smaller, more tightly knit social circle is preferable.
Ultimately, the spectrum of friendship is broad and varied. While close friends are undoubtedly vital, acknowledging the quiet importance of weak ties and casual acquaintances enriches our understanding of social connection. They are the background hum of our social lives, and their absence is felt more profoundly than we might initially realize.
